Humpty Dumpty
by ceridwen-amyed
Summary: All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put her together agan. An Alice Longbottom vignette


Humpty Dumpty

**Disclaimer:** All JKRs, not mine, if they were then I would know how the whole series ends and wouldn't be writing this. Yep.

Written for a challenge on this community here: 

Come join: new blood is good. :)

_All the__ king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put her together again._

The past is not behind but before her, lying in glittering pieces at her feet. A jigsaw puzzle she cannot solve without picking up each piece and examining it in minute detail, feeling its colour, its sounds, smell, taste, touch, emotions, action, reaction, and its repercussions.

It seems so hopeless sometimes; an entire life, fragmented and broken. Alice Longbottom knows that if she can solve the puzzle, she will understand. Things will make more sense. She will remember the boy and the old witch who visit her and their names.

On bad days, Alice stares at the folds in her quilt and sees her old life in front of her. She reaches out for the pieces, meaning to slot them back together. Sometimes her old life appears to her as a jigsaw, sometimes an old Chinese puzzle. Every time she stretches out her hands to claim it, it disappears from view.

She cries into her pillow.

Frank tells her not to worry. These things take time, he says, time which we have, old girl. He doesn't move his lips or head when he speaks, but Alice hears him clearly enough. She loves him enough not to need words.

It's hard to concentrate sometimes and Alice needs to concentrate to remember. The women with bright smiles and cheery voices give her Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. The chewing helps; music and rhythms help her remember.

This is one of the things she remembers; a gramophone. Lacquered wood and a curved metal speaker. She remembers dancing with Frank, the summer breeze drifting through an open window. A baby giggling in the corner.

It isn't much, but she remembers it so clearly. She can get lost in the rings of the wood; the shine of the polish; the baby's giggles; the breeze; Frank. It's not much (and yet it is) but it is at least a start.

She tries to thank the nice women who give her the gum, the key to remembering the past, but the words get stuck in her mouth. She gives the wrappers to the boy who visits. She doesn't know him, but there is something very familiar about him. He wants to be included in what she's doing, Frank says, so she gives the boy her empty wrappers. Like clues. She hopes he can work something out from them.

The puzzle is not going well.

He's here again, she notices. Except it's not him; this boy is different, though he too looks familiar. He has black hair and wide green eyes. She only sees his eyes as he peers around the curtain at her. He edges out, looking nervous and determined. She watches him placidly, willing this new piece to slot in with the precious few clues she has.

He says something; Alice doesn't hear it exactly. She never hears things properly, just odd words. She's good at decoding what people mean.

"Potter," the boy says. "Friend. Neville. School."

Alice doesn't know a Neville. The name is familiar and she wonders if he was a friend or an enemy to her. She thinks a friend, but you can never be sure. Potter is also familiar but she doesn't know where from. 

The boy carries on talking but Alice is too tired to listen. She watches his eyes. He never breaks her gaze.

Suddenly, she knows; she has seen those eyes before, and that face, separately. He is someone from her past, or a representation. Her hands start to shake and then she feels tears welling up behind her eyes.

Here it comes. The pain. It comes and goes and although she knows it is just a memory of something terrible that happened a long time ago, she still feels it with an intensity that nearly kills. She lets her limbs shake and her eyes roll back. She does not scream and from a great distance she hears the boy shouting in panic.

She lets go of the world around her.

And then it comes. A memory, flashing and pulsating, throbbing like a heart in her head. She sees a room, simply decorated in yellows and oranges. A gramophone lies broken in the corner, a record still trying to play half-heartedly. There are people in the room, people in masks and dark roads. Alice and Frank are lying side by side, blindly groping for each other's hands. The people over them laugh. They want to know something but neither Alice nor Frank will tell them. Alice is paralysed. She can only stare at the fireplace. Soot trails out onto the red carpet, and the coal scuttle sits in front of the fireplace like a guard. 

Where is the baby, the people ask and Alice will not tell them. Not even when the pain comes and reaches right into her mind, her heart, strangling her voice until all her thoughts are one terrible scream stretching beyond the world, time, space, everything.

Slowly, as it always does, the pain fades to a dull pulse. As Alice's awareness turns back to the present, she becomes aware of a warm weight across her stomach, her shoulders and breath on her face. She opens her eyes to see the boy with green eyes straddling her, holding her arms. He looks terrified. 

What happened?

You were shaking, dear, says Frank. He didn't want you to hurt yourself.

As Frank finishes, the boy climbs off her clumsily. Alice immediately misses him; it's been years since anyone touched her like that. Frank doesn't have the energy anymore.

And then the other boy, the one who always visits, appears. 

"Shaking. Nurses. I didn't-I couldn't--" says the boy with green eyes.

The other boy says nothing. He turns and walks away. Casting Alice a worried look, the first boy follows leaving Alice and Frank alone.

Alice lies still and lets the afterpain wash over her. Her muscles tingle and she lets her mind drift this way and that, tasting the memories in her mind, searching for a new memory. 

She never remembers everything.

Here it is: a black coal scuttle standing guard over a fireplace. It looks new and somehow proud, or as proud as an inanimate object can look.

Alice feels pleased. She slots the fireplace and the coal scuttle into her puzzle. A room is taking shape in her head now.

Slowly, she is completing it. All by herself, she is solving the mystery of her lost life. It will take time, she knows, and often she has to endure the pain in order to remember, but it will be worth it in the end. 

It only takes time, says Frank, which we have, old girl. We will dance again.


End file.
